


The Last Pint of Karamel Sutra

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-07
Updated: 2009-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is the last pint of Karamel Sutra in the universe."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Pint of Karamel Sutra

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: post-4.07 "Guess What's Coming To Dinner?"  
> A/N: [**icedteainthebag**](http://icedteainthebag.livejournal.com/) gave me prompts I'd never write. I sure showed her! We'll just assume they have Ben &amp; Jerry's in space, shall we?  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

Felix was sitting on the observation, looking moodily out at the stars, when the hatch swung open. He craned his neck to see who it was. "Dammit, I put a 'do not disturb' sign up! Oh. It's you. Even better." His voice went icy.

Anders rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, shifting from foot to foot. "Look, Felix..."

"Lieutenant Gaeta to you, Ensign," Felix snapped.

"Lieutenant Gaeta," Anders repeated obediently. "Dee told me you were here. Look, man, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't bring my leg back," Felix said. "So why don't you frak off."

Anders came closer. He had a bag in one hand. Felix resisted the urge to look at it. "That was an order, Ensign. Why don't you go find somebody else to shoot? Maybe this time you'll spend more than a half hour in the brig for it."

"Zeus and Apollo," Anders swore, "I'm sorry about your leg, more than you know, but Lieutenant, you were mutinying. Against my wife! What was I supposed to do?"

"I was protesting the actions of _my_ daggit-frakking crazy superior officer," Felix corrected him. "You were supposed to stay out of it."

"Only she was right," Anders said.

"Yeah." Felix was quiet for a minute. "Like frakking always. Sometimes I really hate her, but you've gotta love that she's always frakking right."

"Yeah." Anders sat down gingerly in a nearby chair. "We should start a club."

"It's called the Colonial Fleet." Felix glanced over. "So what's in the bag?"

"I don't have to frak off?" Anders asked.

Felix sighed. "There's not a godsdamn lot I can do about it if you're going to sit there. I can't fight you one-legged and full of morpha and you're apparently too dumb to understand words, so why don't you tell me what's in the bag and get it over with."

Anders' hopeful expression was almost laughable as he dug into the bag and produced a small sweating cardboard carton with a dramatic gesture. "This is the last pint of Karamel Sutra in the universe."

"Oh my gods," Felix said, startled. "Where did you find that?"

Anders shook his head. "I was sworn to secrecy." He reached into the bag again and pulled out two spoons. "I know it's not your leg back, but I thought it might be good."

Felix reached for a spoon. "You're not forgiven. Despite the fact that you must have sold your balls to get this. But I accept your peace offering."

Anders held the spoon just out of reach. "You accept my offering but I'm not forgiven?"

"It's my frakking _leg_!" Felix shouted. "I was kind of attached to it, okay? And it's been nothing but shit and misery ever since I helped your stupid resistance back on New Caprica, and I was kind of hoping for a break right about now, and instead I'm down a leg, and it makes me a little cranky, if you can comprehend that! Give me that ice cream!"

"Yessir, Lieutenant," Anders mumbled, handing over the spoon and the carton.

Felix sighed. "Look, Anders. I understand what you did. I understand why you did it. You're a frakking bad shot, but what do I expect from some meathead jock? I'm gonna be pissed a while. Plus, I'm, you know, like I said, blazed on morpha, so I don't really have any tact right now." He pried open the ice cream. "Gods, I haven't seen anything this good since the last time I got laid."

"That recently?" Anders said with a wry note.

"Like half the Fleet doesn't wanna frak your wife," Felix said. "Shut up. Eat. I feel sorry for your apparently expendable balls. I hope their new owner is very happy. Starbuck's not gonna be happy if you sold 'em off without asking, though, since she's got the deed to 'em." He lifted a creamy spoonful to his lips. "Oh gods. I think I found religion."

Anders dipped his spoon tentatively into the ice cream and put it into his mouth. He closed his eyes. "I really frakking miss civilization."

Felix lifted his next spoonful in a toast. "Now there's something we can agree on."

"I'm _really_ sorry," Anders began, but Felix cut him off.

"Save it. There's frak all we can do about it now. And if I had been in your place?" Felix shrugged. "Love ruins everybody's lives. Yours just ruined mine, is all. As soon as I get a cane, I'm gonna beat your ass with it, and then we can move on. Right now, we might as well eat this ice cream that you hawked your manhood for, because if it melts, I'm pathetic enough to lick it off the deck, and I'd prefer to retain some dignity. Is that an order you can understand, Ensign?"

Anders' face brightened a little, though he still looked confused and penitent. "Aye, sir." He tossed Felix a salute.

"Carry on, then," Felix said, scooping up some more. "Aww, frak yeah, that hits the spot."

"Yeah," Anders agreed, and they swapped off spoonfuls until the carton was gone.


End file.
